


We often gotta look for the path, these problems, are the good ones to have

by thunderingskies



Series: You bring out the worst in me [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, reaching out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderingskies/pseuds/thunderingskies
Summary: Tooru makes his way home, the same bus as usual. On his way up to his apartment, he stops at the mailboxes, fumbling with his keys to grab his own mail. He pulls out a few envelopes and slams it closed, going through the letters on his way up.Junk mail… two bills… and a plain envelope. He looks down to where his address is written and his heart stops.Tooru doesn’t even need to read the words scrawled on the front. He’d recognize that handwritinganywhere.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't know what tags to give this, sorry for how vague it is lol. Thank you so much to everyone who is supporting this AU! I owe so much to so many lovely people who have read, left kudos, comments and motivation!! As always I owe a lot of this AU and all the little headcanons to Amalas who helps me work it all out!

Whether you like it or not, life goes on. When that happens, you have two choices. 

You can either stand still, or you can move on with it.

And Tooru? He’s done with standing still.

He’s ready to move forward.

With a little help from Makki and Mattsun, he picks himself up off the ground, and does his best to dust himself off. 

He throws himself back into his work. A little too hard at first, and he winds up overworking himself on a few occasions, but he work to finds a balance. He keeps himself honest, promising himself that he won’t take days off unless he really needs them. As the weeks pass on, he needs less and less, until he’s back in his routine of five-day work weeks. He’s performing even better than before, and he even earns a promotion.

He spends a lot of time with his friends. Makki and Mattsun are there for him, and he’s eternally grateful. It’s easier to deal with all of this, to move on, when he doesn’t feel so  _ alone _ . 

He even escapes back home with his parents for a weekend. It feels a little cowardly, to hide at home, but they understand him. They loved Hajime too - they’re hurting just like he is. 

The hurt doesn’t go  _ away _ , but it lessens. It’s manageable. It’s been about six months now since Hajime left, and he’s dealing.

He even tries his hand at dating. It doesn’t end in disaster, thank god, but it doesn’t take very long for him to realize that it’s just not  _ right. _ He’s not ready. It’s fine, though, and probably works out for the best, because Keiji understands, and they become friends because of it. He doesn’t know about Tooru’s heartbreak either, so it’s fresh. It’s  _ fun. _

He’s having a good day. Work went really well, and he feels like he’s finally hitting his stride there. He’s got a goal to work towards now, and the energy to do it. He leaves work, tired but in a good way, heading home for dinner and a quiet evening. Maybe he’ll call Makki and see what he’s up to. It’s been a couple of days since they’ve hung out, so it’s about time. 

Tooru makes his way home, the same bus as usual. On his way up to his apartment, he stops at the mailboxes, fumbling with his keys to grab his own mail. He pulls out a few envelopes and slams it closed, going through the letters on his way up.

Junk mail… two bills… and a plain envelope. He looks down to where his address is written and his heart stops. 

Tooru doesn’t even need to read the words scrawled on the front. He’d recognize that handwriting  _ anywhere. _

It’s the same handwriting that used to correct his homework back in high school, because he always worked way too quickly and made a dozen mistakes that his brain couldn’t work fast enough to catch. The handwriting that would fill up notebooks when Hajime and Tooru wanted to share secrets but were too shy to say them out loud, or too scared to ask. The handwriting that wrote  _ I love you, Tooru _ on that confession letter Hajime gave to him so many years ago that he still keeps, tucked away safely in his bedside table-

Tooru shakes his head, focusing. He glances up to where the return address should be, but sees only a name. No city, no street, no postal code. Just  _ Iwaizumi Hajime. _ Hajime’s sent him a letter. There’s a  _ letter. _ From  _ Hajime _ .

Fuck.

His stomach is in knots as he makes his way up the stairs, hardly able to tear his eyes off it. Hajime still writes his name the way that he used to - the beginning of his name in slightly larger, fancier script, his name progressively getting a little bit smaller until the end. Tooru always used to tease Hajime about how his writing was never even.

Now it just makes him feel nostalgic. 

Once inside his apartment, Tooru drops all of his mail on the kitchen counter, except for the letter. This he places carefully on the table while he takes a few minutes to regain his composure.

He puts his things away, and heads to the bathroom. He doesn’t usually shower in the evenings, but for today he can make an exception. He’s nervous, and cleaning himself off with some warm water and his favourite soap helps to calm his nerves a little. He comes out refreshed, changing into some clean, comfortable clothes.

He warms up some leftovers to eat from dinner last night in the microwave. Gets some water. Sets himself down at the table, and all the while stares at the letter while he eats.

How is he supposed to  _ feel _ right now?

He’s nervous,  _ so _ nervous, of what might be inside this letter.

But that’s  _ definitely _ Hajime’s handwriting.

That alone gets him to slowly open the letter, sliding his finger beneath where it’s sealed, and pulling out the single sheet of paper inside.

He unfolds it, slowly, and holds his breath.

The letter itself is short. There’s no more than half a page of writing, some sentences and words scratched out, and Tooru tears through it quickly.

~~_ Oikawa, _ ~~

~~_ Dear Tooru, _ ~~

_ Tooru, _

_ I’m sorry for leaving without telling you where I was going. I was afraid that if I saw you, I wouldn’t want to leave. _

_ I went to rehab. It’s been about a month now since I completed the program. I moved into a sober living home and I’m going to stay here for a while… I need to get my life sorted out again. I work here in exchange for a place to stay. I’m starting to feel healthy again. I’m looking forward to when I can finally play volleyball again. _

_ It’s a slow process. I need to keep up with my therapy every day but I’m working on it.  _

_ I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. I hope you are, too. _

_ Hajime. _

Tooru’s heart is rattling around inside his chest as he finishes the letter. His fingers shake as he folds it back up, sliding it back into the envelope with care, but he can’t help the small, scared, relieved laugh that escapes his throat.

_ Hajime’s okay. _


End file.
